The Spanish Billionaire’s Pregnant Wife

‘Of course, some people will say that artists are like that-all passion and no common sense,’ Esteban framed tight-mouthed with disapproval. ‘But it is your duty to put an end to such activities and protect the family name. I am very sorry that I have had to bring this scandalous matter to your attention.’

Right up until the old man mentioned the word ‘artist’ and linked it with that other revealing word ‘passion’, Leandro had been inclined to take a humorous view of what Esteban might regard as a scandalous matter-too short a skirt? A little flirtation? A woman seen unchaperoned in male company after seven o’clock at night? But when it came to his wife’s reputation, Leandro’s sense of humour died. He was no more liberated than his seventeenth- century forebears who had locked up their wives and fought duels to the death over them. The only artist in his family, as far as he was concerned, was Molly.

‘Fernando Santos?’ he breathed between compressed lips as he shot to his feet.

Startled by that brusqueness with which that word erupted from the head of the family, Esteban nodded in grave and grudging confirmation.

To fill her time that evening, Molly was tidying up her studio. When a car drew up outside she looked out in surprise at the sight of Leandro springing out of the vehicle. He was a sleek, dark and gorgeous image in his well- cut business suit and she ate him up shamelessly with her eyes. Familiarity did not breed contempt in her experience. She might share a bed with him every night, but she remained awesomely aware of his magnificence.

Her ready smile glowed into being. ‘I thought you were never going to come down and see this place,’ she confided helplessly.

The faintest rise of dark colour scored the slashing cheekbones that gave Leandro’s handsome face such strong lines. He glanced across the yard at the building housing the estate office and marvelled that it had not previously occurred to him that his wife was likely to become friendly with a man she was working virtually next door to several days a week.

‘You’ve managed an impressive transformation in here,’ Leandro conceded, quietly noting the scrupulous organisation and order that distinguished the studio. Molly might rush at the business of life like a tiny, intense and energetic tornado, but she did not wreak havoc on her surroundings.

‘I couldn’t have done it without Fernando’s help. He’s been invaluable. He introduced me to one of his friends who’s a painter. He was able to advise me on where to buy the kiln and my supplies,’ she told him.

His lean, powerful face taut and his sense of guilt growing, for he had offered her no support, Leandro picked up a bowl with a smooth, swirling mother-of-pearl finish and examined it. ‘This is very attractive, mi cielo. I should have done more to help and I’m relieved that Santos has made himself useful. Do you see much of him?’

Sensing his edgy mood, Molly was becoming tense. ‘I see him most days-I mean, his office is only across the yard.’

Luxuriant black lashes low over his stunning dark golden eyes, Leandro held her questioning appraisal levelly. ‘You need to be more careful in your dealings with him-’

‘What the heck is that supposed to mean?’ Molly launched at him in immediate angry interruption. ‘What are you trying to imply?’

Her husband looked grim. ‘I’m not implying anything. I trust you. I don’t think you’re foolish enough to get involved with another man, but I do think you’re likely to be careless of appearances. In a rural area like this where people have old-fashioned ideas about the sexes that can cause problems.’

‘I haven’t done anything that anyone could take amiss!’ Molly exclaimed.

‘I’m afraid that you must have done because one of my relatives came to tell me about it today-’

Molly took a furious step forward. ‘To talk about me? And tell you exactly what?’

‘No specifics, just a lot of suggestive mumbling and raised brows and dark hints,’ Leandro volunteered in a wry tone, reaching out for her small slender hands and enclosing them deftly in his. ‘I would not discuss you with anyone. I’m just warning you to watch your step for your own sake. This isn’t like London. You are a person of importance here and your every move will be noted. Our neighbours and employees do talk about us and I don’t want my wife to become the focus of damaging gossip.’

‘I haven’t done anything that anyone could talk about-unless it was your mother. I imagine Dona Maria could come up with a pretty good story to drop me in it if she wanted to!’ Molly condemned bitterly, yanking her hands free of his in a pointed gesture of condemnation.

His surprise at that response patent, Leandro frowned down at her. ‘This has nothing to do with my mother-’

‘You’re accusing me of getting too friendly with Fernando and it’s absolutely not true.’

‘I’ve nothing more to say on this issue and I’m not going to be drawn into an argument about it.’ Leandro surveyed her with forbidding cool. ‘I didn’t intend to upset you.’

‘Of course, I’m upset. You approach me with no names, no facts and tell me to watch my every move like I’m some silly airhead of a schoolgirl likely to cause you embarrassment! Well, I may not be from a fancy aristocratic background like yours, but I do know how to behave,’ she proclaimed fiercely.

‘Is Santos making a nuisance of himself?’ Leandro shot at her suddenly. ‘Is that the problem?’

‘No, you’re the problem, Leandro!’ Molly was trembling with furious resentment. It was humiliating that he should feel the need to warn her about her conduct with an employee. She shook her keys noisily and waited at the exit until he had walked past her. She then locked up the studio and stalked back towards her own vehicle.

‘Leave it here. I’ll take you back. I don’t want you to drive in a temper,’ Leandro breathed in a raw undertone, angry that she had reacted so badly to what he viewed as a mild and reasonable admonition. He was already wondering if there was more substance to the gossip than the narrow-minded rumours without foundation that he had assumed.

‘I’ll do whatever the hell I like!’ Molly raked at him, wondering why he was so possessive of her. Evidently he didn’t appreciate just how powerful a hold he had on her.

‘No. You won’t, querida,’ Leandro asserted as he bent and lifted her off her startled feet to stash her bodily into the passenger seat of his car.

Molly was so taken aback by that very physical intervention that they were halfway back to the castle before she mastered her fizzing rage with him to the point where she could speak. By then she had also remembered Aloise’s accident and the row that had evidently preceded that tragedy. Her tummy lurched as she understood why he had been so determined not to let her get behind the wheel in such a mood. He wouldn’t talk about his precious Aloise but Molly felt positively haunted by her predecessor. She knew so many facts about Leandro’s first wife but virtually nothing of a personal nature. All she had was the gorgeous blonde in the portrait in the dining room to go on for an image and the scarcely heartening knowledge that Aloise had been a successful barrister, renowned for her charity work and her talents as a hostess-an impossible act to follow as far as Molly was concerned.

‘There are times when you make me so angry I could go into orbit without an engine. I can’t stand being bossed around,’ Molly admitted shakily. ‘And I sincerely hate you when you talk down to me like I’m stupid!’

‘I don’t do that. You’re a very passionate personality-’

‘And I’m proud of it,’ Molly muttered without apology.

‘I’m getting used to it,’ Leandro confessed, studying her delicate profile with an instinctive sense of fascination. He could feel the powerful emotion she was struggling to contain. It was that same vital life force matched with sensuality that powered their astonishingly good sex life. He rationed the time he spent with her, though. It was better that way, he told himself grimly. Everything in moderation, nothing to excess. It was the rational line to follow. He remembered how he had felt when he saw Santos responding to her sex appeal. He hadn’t liked his reaction. As long as he stayed in control he need never feel that way again.

Before she went to bed, Molly logged on and checked her email box and then scolded herself for expecting a reply from Ophelia so quickly. Most probably an employee would see her email first and pass it on and it might well be some time before her sister even laid eyes on it. Maybe she had made a mistake getting in touch, she thought anxiously. Fear of rejection had kept her from travelling the road to a reunion for years, but the need to reach out to Ophelia had overwhelmed her at a vulnerable moment. All her optimistic dreams about what she might make of her marriage were slowly crumbling into dust around her.

In the spacious bedroom of her town apartment the following evening, Julieta put down her mobile phone and